SEB WAS A LONELY CREATURE. His hair was greying and, to add to his pains, it was also falling out. Other monkeys pointed at him, raised their pinkish lips, hooted with laughter. He had one good eye. The other was milky and oozed a pearly liquid. His nostrils were gummed with snot and he used dock leaves to wipe it away. His body, covered with strange bumps, almost lumps, almost humps, had given up on him, mostly. He spent the best part of the day pushing these back into his body and watching them protrude again. He had lost two toes in a fight with Lola. Lola had crunched them up with her yellow teeth and swallowed them and Seb had howled and run into a corner and remained there until the scab had formed. Two days later, in the night, when Seb was sleeping, Lola prized off the scab and ate that, too. Nobody really knew how old Seb was. If you had to take a guess, and it would not be an educated one, you would say 20, but he looked older. He looked old. He no longer swung from branches, rolled in the dirt. He no longer chased squirrels, slept in the trees. He sat and waited for the keeper to bring his food. He was usually the last to get to it. The younger monkeys, more agile and alert, would take the pick of the mangoes, bananas, and plums dumped in a heap in the centre of the compound. He sat and waited. A separate cage held Lola these days. She rolled her eyes and shook her head and bellowed into the wind. She had killed one of the younger monkeys. It was horrific to see. Seb had put his hands over his eyes and howled again. He howled. The keepers were too late to save the youngster. I think his name was Ed. He had stolen a ripe and shiny mango from Lola's stash. Retribution was swift. Seb scratched his ear, poked around in it, and looked at his finger. There was nothing there. A small child, standing beyond the fence, mimicked Seb's actions and Seb scratched his armpit, chattered and hooted quietly. He got to his feet slowly and shambled off to a place where the child could not see him. Something was stirring in his stomach. Maybe it was the rotten bananas he had eaten the night before. With great difficulty, he pulled his legs over his shoulders and inserted his middle finger deep into his anus. There was something hard there—hard but pliable—like a squash ball. Seb pulled his finger out and smelled it. Hmm. He contracted his stomach muscles and pushed. Something moved. Something gave. This is what he would do for the rest of the day, he realised. He knew. He would not mix with the other monkeys. He would do this. He would not let them near him. He would do this. His stomach flip-flopped again and he pushed a little harder. Flashlights went off in his eyes and he felt his head spin. Dizzy. It was really quite painful. He once again inserted his finger and felt his cock stiffen and his balls turn in their sacs like frightened octopuses. His lips pulled back involuntarily and he gave out a slow moan. The thing would not budge. He probed further. Further. There was something attached to it. The thing itself no longer felt spherical. It was almost a cube but with raised points and he could feel openings where there were none before. Doors. Windows. In addition, there was some kind of fibre but not living, not breathing. Maybe once. The other monkeys were watching him. Some pointed. They came together and stood in a semicircle around Seb. His muscles were burning. His eyes watering. His nose bubbling with gunk. His cock now stood up rosy and caramel. His balls fit to burst. Lola turned in her cage and watched him out of bloodshot eyes and she raised a finger to the sky and blew a long and frightening raspberry. And he felt the thing give and out it popped, a perfectly formed carriage, with outriders in golden livery, with a driver in a black velvet suit, and four splendid white horses with scarlet plumes and jingle-jangle harnesses, and the driver cracked his leather whip and off they set and when Seb looked down he saw them half past a monkey's arse and a quarter to his balls.


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